


A Matter of the Heart

by HC_AnonA



Category: Hermitcraft RPF
Genre: 3 + 1 Things, Aftercare, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Communication, Dirty Talk, Emotional Sex, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Face-Sitting, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Forced Orgasm, Gentle Sex, Hand Jobs, Jealousy, Kissing, Lingerie, M/M, Making Out, Marking, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mouth Kink, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Pet Names, Possessive Behavior, Rimming, Rough Sex, Sleepy Cuddles, Smut, Switching, aka there's only so many ways i can use lingerie as a plot devices, because 5+1 is overrated, because i indulge myself and myself only, but like really mild, god theyre soft, i like the evolution from soft to rough to soft again in the end, oh no, they have the power of communication, they're fine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:49:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26928406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HC_AnonA/pseuds/HC_AnonA
Summary: Grian and Zedaph are in a relationship. Taking care of each other is, in no small way, their thing.ORThree times Grian wears lingerie for Zedaph and one time things go a bit differently.
Relationships: Grian/Zedaph (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 47





	A Matter of the Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tunfisken](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tunfisken/gifts).



> Hello again, dear readers.  
> there'a lack of Grized content and that makes me yearn, and we all know what I do when I yearn. Wreckage.  
> Enjoy :)

1.

The phantom feeling of a sword cutting through him and the memory of a light at the end of the little tunnel he had desperately dug in his attempts to escape silhouetting a victorious looking Grian before him are the only things on his mind when Zedaph startles awake, purple eyes wide and stinging with the pain that is, as quickly as his breathing is settling down, his body calming down with the still air of his base registering in his mind, also fading away, shards of it breaking off and leaving small cuts that sting, but the pain isn’t that of a sword, it is moreso a feeling of slight betrayal even if, and Zedaph is aware, getting the heads of the hermits had been the whole point of the game. Zedaph knows logic will come in soon and help soothe the tightness in his chest, but for now, he merely stands up in bed, legs shaky as his own sense of balance slowly, _too_ slowly, returns to him. Still, Zedaph manages to right himself and he leans into a wall.  
A few seconds later, he is about to fish his communicator out of his pocket when, suddenly, something slams into his front door, the metal clanking in it’s hinges, stone dust settling around the door frame. The sound echoes around the empty cave all too loudly and, with his senses still gradually returning after respawning, Zedaph can only cover his ears and wince slightly. It is day outside, Zedaph remembers with sudden clarity, and respawning never takes more than an hour, so Zedaph reasons that it must be another hermit, not just a newly spawned mob literally going bump in the night, but his confusion finds room to grow because he has a button above his door, he isn’t sure why anyone would just slam into it like that. It could perhaps be an incident of the natural phenomena variety, Zedaph tells himself as he makes his way towards his entrance, mind already running wild with all the possibilities, though he doubts a drowned will have joined a husk tribe only to throw a trident at Zedaph’s door, just as he doubts a sudden onslaught of stony rain falling upon the server, or at least, upon Zedaph’s base.

Still, Zedaph’s curiosity wins out over the nearly silent voice telling him to wait first, telling him to think and check whatever visitor he may have before opening the door, because Zedaph has never been one to ask before acting or think before speaking, so it is what a hint of frankness that Zedaph opens the door, nearly choking on his breath as the laugh that almost makes it out into the quietness of the cave gets stuck in his throat at the sight before him.

Grian is sprawled in the sand in front of his door, elytra wings torn and open in a way that makes Zedaph smile and wince sympathetically before he opens the door fully, black eyes meeting Zedaph’s when Grian raises his his head from the sand, a loopy smile reassuring Zedaph that Grian is, at least mostly, fine.

‘Surprise visit to rub some salt in the wound?’, Zedaph asks nonchalantly as he leans into the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest and an eyebrow raised in semblance of a serious, questioning look, but Zedaph’s lips tremble with the effort to keep a smile off of his face when Grian jumps up, sand colouring his deep red sweater pink in some places and almost entirely light yellow in others. It flies off Grian’s clothes and frame when he shakes himself, but the wings behind him flap uselessly as well and Zedaph has to hold a hand in front of his face as he looks Grian in the eyes, still playing out the annoyed and resentful act, even as he hides a laugh.

‘Sure, sure, Z’, Grian says and, despite the probably not particularly nice landing and later part of his flight over to Zedaph’s base, he smiles, the white flash of teeth shining behind pink lips, ‘That’s what I came to rub.’

Zedaph can’t hold his laugh in this time around, but he moves away from the door as he giggles, waving Grian in with one of his hands, the other hovering in front of his mouth to somewhat muffle his amused sounds still. Grian steps through the doorway gracefully, nose held high, an unreadable smirk playing on the edge of his lips. Zedaph gives Grian’s words more consideration, looking at their meaning beyond the truly mature joke and, for a second, before he shakes his head, Zedaph’s cheeks redden slightly.

Zedaph gets his mind off of that matter and just closes the door with an odd look and a small sigh, turning to face Grian. Them getting together had been a surprise for most of the hermits and, honestly, Zedaph sometimes wonders why Grian had chosen him when he had, but he doesn’t question it, doesn’t really think he needs to, not when his mind stutters at images of black eyes crinkled in laughter, at the memory of wind-swept, dark blonde hair beneath his fingers, at the times they’d spent together before they’d even made their relationship known to the other hermits, because Zedaph’s chest feels warm all of a sudden, all swords and games and heads forgotten.

When he does turn, however, Grian is much closer than Zedaph had expected, eyes shining with something that Zedaph recognises, but there’s also something more. There’s a small crease between Grian’s brows as he leans forward, their noses almost touching.He’s already unequipped his elytra and, when hands fall on Zedaph’s shoulders, it is with a surprised sound that Zedaph’s back meets the cool surface of the metal door behind him.

‘Actually, I don’t think what happened today was very nice, you know?’, Grian says, and he does so in a soft voice, a whisper, smooth and a bit high, almost songlike in quality, his breath all but palpable in the airy words, ‘I love winning...’

Grian lips brush the shell of Zedaph’s ear with every sound that escapes past them and, shakily, Zedaph raises his hands to sweaterclad hips, the heat of the body underneath something Zedaph bites his lips at, but Grian doesn’t seem to be done yet, so Zedaph just closes his eyes and takes a breath, to cool his head, and another one, to allow his body to relax in the hold, but perhaps Grian will excuse his shiver on the cold metal at his back, Zedaph hopes.

'...But I think I like you a tad more.'

And Zedaph wheezes at the dramatic way in which Grian says it, but that doesn't stop his heart from all but ripping through his chest and landing in a pale, outstretched hand, allowing clever fingers to crush it, if Grian were to ask it of him, and Zedaph opens his eyes then, face pleasantly warm when Grian's lips peck his red cheek, the kiss quick and sweet.

'Well. Still the worst shopping experience of my life', Zedaph grins, but it is lopsided and a bit shaky around the edges, yet it makes Grian's entire demeanor change, hearing the easy tone of Zedaph's answer, and Zedaph guesses at least one of the reasons Grian had come to his Cave of Contraptions had been to check on him. Part of him is grateful, the other part is still melting through whatever miniscule cracks there may still be in the stone floor of the mostly man made cavern, however, and Zedaph goes even more boneless against the door, even as his grip on Grian tightens a touch.

'Then, I'll make it up to you. You already gave me your head, I say returning the favour would be enough, hm?', Grian hums and Zedaph's brows furrow slightly, a strand being brushed behind his ear as Grian all but laughs in his face, cheeks turning a bit pink and, before Zedaph can ask what he could possibly do with a Grian head, though perhaps it might prove to be an advantage in Cleo's head games, it hits him. Zedaph will probably later deny the high squeal he lets out, but maybe it is worth it, the embarrassment it brings him, what with the way it makes Grian’s smile widen into something blinding, something almost mischievous lurking behind the veneer of brightness.

‘Oh’, Zedaph decides to say, intelligently, but then Grian is pulling back and Zedaph already misses the heat of his body next to still trembling limbs that his own brown cardigan does nothing to still.

Grian hums again, but he begins walking backwards, beckoning Zedaph into following him just with the way his body moves, elegant, despite the dust of a rough landing, somehow all too fragile for the bow strapped to his back, which Zedaph had felt the accuracy off just earlier, yet it doesn’t stray to any deeper thoughts, the memory, drowned as it is in dark eyes framed by long, fluttering lashes.

Zedaph starts smiling, then, too and it makes Grian’s steps quicken in pace, but not too noticeably.

Still, it isn’t long until they make it to the small sleeping area Zedaph had set up when his cave had been even smaller, the sheets folded nicely at the edge of it already, seeing as Zedaph had slept over in Grian’s hobbit hole the night prior.

Before Zedaph’s face can turn redder yet as he remembers their nightly activities, Grian’s hands are on him again, fingers digging into the brown wool of his clothes and, before Zedaph can blink or speak or even breathe out a whisper of Grian’s name into the cold air of the cave, he is being turned around and swiftly, but not too roughly, thrown into the bed with a small _oomph._

‘There… Now for some finishing touches...’, Grian says after a pause, drawing his shoulders back and straightening himself, looking down at Zedaph and Zedaph loves the look in his eyes, loves what it usually means for himself, when black turns darker, when the small spark in them turns fiery, but Zedaph can tell by how Grian moves that this isn’t going to end like that. This isn’t Grian asking for control, this is Grian establishing his presence, standing tall, or well, as tall as he can, and beautiful and Zedaph feels like the air he breathes gets stuck before it can reach his brain because _woah_.

They don’t stay like that for long. Grian starts taking off whatever equipment he still has strapped on him, his pack hitting the stone ground with a thud, his tools following suit, the clank of the blades of an axe and a sword deafening in the complete silence that Zedaph’s soft pants and breaths cannot fill, and, soon enough, he starts tugging his clothes off, first his pants and shoes and socks, pale, slender thighs and the curve of his hips still somewhat concealed by the large sweater that hangs off of his frame in the most sinuous of ways with the way Grian carries himself.

The sweater falls to the floor in a puddle of red that reminds Zedaph of blood and of roses, but his attention focuses on the display before him because white skin is covered in tendrils of fabric, sheer crimson framing Grian’s crotch and extending up to his chest in a bodice that _just_ covers his pink nipples, even if the see through material does nothing to actually hide anything, whether it be the rosy flush of Grian’s body or the straining form of his cock.

Zedaph isn’t sure he is breathing anymore, but he can feel the way he goes a little crosseyed and Grian laughs, but it sounds more breathy, more controlled, in a way, as if he is holding back some sort of sound.

‘You’re...’

Zedaph cannot find his words and he bites his tongue when his mouth snaps shut in an attempt to hold back a groan, but it doesn’t help, not when Grian’s smile widens as he takes another step towards Zedaph, bending slightly down to lay his hands on trembling thighs, only to spread them before Grian can fall onto his knees before Zedaph, the line of his body against the dark gray of the stone a mind numbing image that Zedaph’s brain clings to.

‘Here to make you feel good? Yes, that I am, love’, Grian eventually says, grin turning a bit more subtle as his gaze leaves Zedah’s wide eyes, glossy with how overwhelming everything feels right now and, the moment their visual contact breaks, Zedaph can’t help but look at where red lace meets pearly skin, and his brain stutters in its processes. He gulps and , from experience, brings his hands behind his back. He can alway look, but Grian will be the one to allow him to touch, if he so wishes, and Zedaph feels heat pulse through him at the thought, gathering and tugging at any logic he might have still had somewhere in his brain.

‘...Beautiful. You’re so pretty, bird.’

Grian’s expression doesn’t change, but Zedaph smiles gently at the way the tips of Grian’s ears turn pink at the name. He’d once told Zedaph that it wasn’t the word itself that flustered him, but the way in which Zedaph says it and, Zedaph assumes, it might just be true, as he pours all of his love and adoration in that one word, allowing it to roll off of his tongue in a sweet, cascading hum, and Grian does remind him of one, especially when he is in the air, although, even like this, he is delicate, but strong, just a bit of mischief hiding beneath the surface, an elegance to the way he moves, a melody in the way he speaks, things that make Zedaph lose his mind sometimes, just a little bit, because of how much they make him love Grian even more.

Grian looks as if he wants to say something, but then he shakes his head and his dark gaze lands on Zedaph’s crotch. Zedaph squeezes his eyes shut in shame as he realises just how aroused he already is, but judging by the giggle Grian lets out, he doesn’t mind. Zedaph feels cold fingers brush against the tense skin of his stomach when Grian reaches for him, undoing his trousers with sure movements and pulling them down slowly, only enough so he can have access to Zedaph's, _suddenly,_ painfully hard dick. Yet Grian doesn’t go any further and, with a whine, Zedaph opens his eyes, all but groaning at how Grian looks between his legs, flushed and smiling and _ethereal_ , Zedaph’s cock curving in front of him, precum already beading at the tip. Zedaph knows what Grian is waiting for. He gathers himself as best as he can, takes a deep breath, one that makes a shiver go through his body as though it were cold lightning, and then says, simply, softly:

‘Please.’

Were the situation not what it is right now, were this not a sort of gift, Grian would not have been satisfied with that alone, but he smiles and leans down, though not before nodding and whispering something as his pink lips stretch around the head of Zedaph’s wet cock.

‘You can touch me, this is for you, love.’

Zedaph feels the way his mind collapses with the gentle stimulation, muscles seizing up and fingers twitching where they are held behind his back. Grian’s mouth is hot and wet and velvety inside, even as he just suckles on Zedaph, but his tongue adds another, slightly rougher layer of sensation that makes Zedaph want to lay against the sheets and never get up. What he does, instead, is throw his head back, eyes almost entirely shut, teeth slowly starting to dig into the flesh of his lower lip until the pain of it snaps Zedaph back to reality, his hands moving, hesitantly, towards Grian’s face and, before he can think better of it, Zedaph looks down at his partner, looks at the peaceful gleam in dark eyes, looks at flushed cheeks and spit-shiny lips, looks at how calm Grian looks as he takes his cock and Zedaph feels the way a noise is pinched out of him as his hands trace the red skin beneath Grian’s eyes with both hands, not grabbing, not really controlling the pace, simply touching Grian and holding his face gently.  
‘F-fuck...’, Zedaph mewls when Grian hums around his dick and begins moving, slipping Zedaph’s cock further into his mouth, tongue swirling against the underside in a maddening way. From this angle, Zedaph can see just how much all of this affects Grian too and, with one look at Grian’s erection pressing against the red lace, one look at the beautifully complex patterns the fabric makes against his skin, Zedaph breaks a little. His thighs tense up and twitch, but Grian doesn’t do more than blink lazily up at Zedaph as he speeds up his movements ever so slightly, a few strands of hair that Zedaph brushes away with soft touches falling into his intense eyes, before he raises his hands and buries his nails into the soft flesh of Zedaph’s thighs.  
There’s a crease in Grian’s brows as he takes Zedaph deeper and Zedaph’s whole body tenses up as the head reaches the back of Grian’s throat. His hands pat Grian’s heated cheeks soothingly, almost like a reminder that this is fine, Zedaph can and _has_ come from much less, Grian doesn’t need to strain himself, not when-

Zedaph chokes on a moan when his entire length slips down Grian’s throat and his fingers move to tangle themselves into dark blonde locks, now, as Zedaph keeps his hips as still as he can in the sudden lack of motion.

He hadn’t realised how heavily he was panting before, but the rough sound of it, accompanied by the hummingbird-fast beat of his heart, is the only thing he _can_ hear. Grian hollows his cheeks and sucks around Zedaph, for a moment, simply swallowing him down as far as Zedaph will go, but it makes Zedaph’s mind spin, it makes him lose whatever functioning part of his mind he might have had going for him.

‘C-can I… _Please_ , my pretty bird...’, Zedaph says between muffled moans, his tone tense, voice on the verge of breaking, but Zedaph cannot even start to feel embarrassed about his own reactions, not when he only has eyes for the way the lace stands out against Grian’s body, not when Grian looks so sweet and so beautiful and so ready to please, to _serve_ between Zedaph’s legs.

Grian’s lips pull oddly around Zedaph’s cock and Zedaph thinks he might be smiling. Slowly, Grian pulls himself off of Zedaph’s cock and, with a wince, pants out a small keen that makes Zedaph’s blood burn even hotter. Their eyes meet again and there’s a small, soundless exchange that becomes all the more obvious when Grian stands up, his frame unfolding in a way that makes Zedaph gasp softly, hands twitching to reach out again and hold Grian, to caress his face, to trace the subtle muscles of his thigh, to _spread_ him-

‘I want you to come. On me’, is the simple statement that leaves Grian’s lips as he presses a hand to Zedaph’s chest and pushes him to lay on his back, knees bracketing Zedaph’s own. Grian shuffles until he sits in his lap and Zedaph feels frozen with stimulation, with pleasure and with tension, heat making his body sing even if he tries to stop whatever noises are still stuck behind a stubborn tongue, but Zedaph can only _barely_ keep himself from thrusting up into Grian, from pulling him further in his own lap so he can move up against the cleft of his arse, because the words destroy whatever semblance of control Zedaph still had. He whimpers softly, then, and looks up at Grian in an almost worshipful way.

‘Gri...’, but Grian stops him, one hand covering Zedaph’s mouth, smile gentle as Zedaph’s eyes grow hazy when two of Grian’s fingers creep past his lips, his other hand going to Zedaph’s dick, wrapping around the throbbing length of it in a loose fist.

‘Shush now, just let me make you feel good’, Grian orders, but he sounds just as wrecked as Zedaph is and his cock looks like it must ache in the confines of the lace set of lingerie, but Zedaph relaxes against the sheets, his body growing still and his lips parting even more to let Grian in, tongue lapping at the pads of his fingers gently, slipping between them and wetting them with his own drool.

Grian’s smile turns into something a bit harder at the sight, his whole face shadowed by _something_ , but then Grian shakes himself and begins moving his hands up and down Zedaph’s cock in slow movements. Despite the glacial pace, Zedaph feels like he is about to burst and, even if he tries to be still, his whole body is twitching now, the muscles of his legs bunching up with it, and Grian squirms in his lip, grinding his arse against the front of Zedaph’s thighs.

‘That’s it, love, that’s it. So quiet, so good, _God_ , I love you.’

It’s the adoring whisper, the string of murmured praises that Grian delivers in the most devastated, yet absolutely adoring ways, that does it for Zedaph. His cock _hurts_ when he comes, when white strands of his own come land on Grian’s fist, some drops of it decorating the lower part of Grian’s lingerie in what becomes an image that Zedaph knows his brain won’t let him forget too soon.

Zedaph isn’t sure if his orgasm had stripped him of his vision for a good few second or if he’d just unconsciously closed his eyes, the emotional and physical weight it brought down on him lifting only after a few minutes, bringing Zedaph back, or, well, mostly back, if the way his mind still swims between a dreamy sort of calmness and a more visceral sensation of his body still tingling is anything to go by, to Grian laying across Zedaph’s chest, his hard bulge something Zedaph can feel against his own stomach, the small circles Grian’s hips move in as he grins himself down and against Zedaph’s body something Zedaph whines at in a quiet voice. He wants to get his hands on Grian too, to send him over the edge of ecstasy as well, but Grian bites into Zedaph’s collarbones when Zedaph shifts to do so, albeit a bit slowly, his body still wrought with sensitivity and it makes Zedaph sob out a small noise of pained pleasure.

‘No, love. This is all for you. I can take care of myself and you can help later, but we’re not done _yet._ ’

It sounds final and Zedaph’s mind goes blank once more at the mere thought of what Grian’s plan for the night might entail, his body relaxing in Grian’s hands, the fingers Grian still has in his mouth thrusting in once again in a way that makes Zedaph close his eyes, cock swiftly beginning to harden again.

2.

With a block of obsidian in one hand and his diamond pickaxe in the other, Zedaph stands next to the black portal frame, muttering under his breath as he tries to think about how the coordinates of his portal contraption might translate into its overworld equivalent, but the numbers flash before him, muttered counting the only way to keep hold of them, and Zedaph is, suffice to say, _distracted_.

A fleeting look at his clock device shows the first moon as being lit, but Zedaph doesn’t feel too tired, at least not yet, not while there’s still work to be done, but he knows the ache of already too many nights spent working on his base, the number of which only seems to increase as his list of ideas grows ever longer, will settle in once the high of working will wear off. Still, Zedaph continues measuring his steps and moving the portals, one block at a time, glancing at a diagram he has nailed into one of the cave’s stone walls, and he genuinely enjoys the silence and the way he can hear his own thoughts clearly. Usually, he likes the chatter of another hermit while he works, but he has to be exact this time and mental math already isn’t Zedaph’s strong suit, so the silence suits him just fine, this time.

He is absorbed in his work as he approaches the portal closest to his dual bedroom, a smile pushing at the corners of his lips when he pats the strider sleeping in a pool of lava on his way, their cooing making his shoulders drop, even as the numbers and the technicalities of his contraption keep swirling about in his head.

Zedaph toys with a flint and steel, considering his placement before he lights the portal to give it a final test for the millionth time, biting his lip and humming quietly, but then he feels it.

He doesn’t get to light the portal. There are hands wrapping around his middle from behind, pulling at Zedaph despite the surprised noise that manages to make it past his lips, pale fingers digging into his cardigan once his back meets a lithe, warm chest.

‘Wha-’

Zedaph tries to protest, but upon looking down, he sees the red knit of a sweater that’s all too familiar to him and, suddenly, the shock melts away into something fonder, Zedaph’s eyes closing as he sighs, heart still beating inside his chest as he lets Grian support him for a bit.

‘Hello, love’, Grian whispers in his ear and he is _just_ a bit shorter than Zedaph himself is, so his breaths meet the back of Zedaph’s neck in a way that makes Zedaph shiver a bit before he lets go of the flint and steel, both of his hands joining Grian’s, resting above them, one over his heart, the other reaching a hip and pushing the brown fabric of Zedaph]s top up slightly. Zedaph laughs a little and leans his head back, giggling at Grian’s upside down smile, though they are close enough that Zedaph can see the specks of gray and blue gently corded amongst the black crystal of his lover’s eyes.

‘Hi, Gri. what brings you here?’, Zedaph asks in a light, perhaps slightly breathless tone, Grian’s beauty always something that leaves him a bit flabbergasted, if nothing else.

‘I think you know.’

Grian’s smile widens just a little bit, eyes narrowing with it and, beneath the surface of his happiness, Zedaph thinks he can spy a spark of mischief. Zedaph thinks about it for a second, trying to remember if they'd had any date planned for the day, but when he comes back up from his small, but definitely strenuous, mental to-do-list empty handed, Zedaph frowns. He turns slightly in Grian’s embrace, a question on the tip of his tongue, but the moment he notices the look in Grian’s eyes, he cannot help but wonder…

‘Are you trying to get copies of your own head again?’, Zedaph asks and laughs a little as Grian pulls back with an offended gasp, sputtering and turning a bit red in the face as he denies any which accusations he might have sensed in Zedaph’s tone, but Zedaph just laughs, chest warm and eyes crinkled shut, one hand clutching at his stomach, the other waving at Grian.

‘It’s fine, it’s fine, I heard some of the other hermits , mainly Mumbo and Iskall, talking about it this morning. You know I support all of you little pranks and ideas, bird’, Zedaph says after he’s had the chance to calm down a little, his breathing returning to normal and his expression melting into a calmer, more adoring sort of happiness.  
And yet, when they lock eyes again, it isn’t the theatrical relief or denial Zedaph might have expected that he can see on Grian’s face, instead he looks… Timid. As if he wants to say something but doesn’t know how to breach the subject. A pang goes through Zed’s heart and he wants to ask if everything is fine or if he’s said something upsetting and hadn’t realised it, is already dropping his pack onto the stone floor, the obsidian and tools and redstone in it clinking against the ground softly. Zedaph makes to take another step towards Grian, prepares to embrace him again, but then Grian blinks, shakes his head a little and, though the almost uncharacteristic shyness is still there, there’s something else in his eyes, something that makes the black of them seem that much darker, pure shadow melding with the inky void that Zedaph’s heart keeps getting lost into.

He’s seen this before, Zedaph realises with a small, shaky intake of air, has seen _Grian_ like this before, and, now, Zedaph realises that Grian isn’t here for a prank, isn’t here for some comfort from his boyfriend, no, not quite, he is here because he _craves_ something.  
There’s little Zedaph wouldn’t do for him and, so, after a moment of rethinking his actions and gathering himself, Zedaph _does_ step forward, but he doesn’t touch Grian, looking at him through his lashes, lower lip caught between his teeth.

‘Gri?’, he asks, softly, and Grian smiles, then, something subtle and _seductive_ all but obvious in the lines of it and Zedaph has to gulp, his face slowly flushing pink, then red when Grian keeps looking at him like that a moment longer, ‘What do you want?’

And Grian hums before he takes another step back, bringing the distance between them back to what it had been before, to Zedaph’s confusion, and it isn’t until Grian’s hands go for the hem of his own red sweater, his body twisting as he removes the fabric and throws it somewhere behind him without a care in the world because, as soon as the sweater is out of the way and his jeans have been shifted out of, as soon as all outer layers of clothing have been removed, Grian’s eyes are back to focusing on him again and Zedaph _can’t breathe._

‘What I want?’

Zedaph’s eyes keep roaming pale skin framed by pink satin, a little bralette, chains and ribbons connecting it to the panties and garter belt holding up a pair of torturously tight thigh highs, doing nothing to conceal the way the colder air of the cave makes Grian’s nipples perk beneath the fine, but also frail looking material, but before he can _actually_ start drooling, he somehow manages to remember that he should maybe listen to what Grian has to say, despite the way Zedaph’s stomach clenches with arousal at the mere sight of him.

Finally, Grian is the one to make his way towards Zedaph and, when he does, he guides Zedaph’s hands to his hips, humming softly when skin meets skin, when fingertips trace over some of the soft ribbons or over the cold metal of some of the chains, before he begins speaking again.

‘I don’t want, I _need_ you to fuck me.’

It’s not quite a command, the tone of it different, but it isn’t a plea either. As it stands, and Zedaph looks at Grian again, at his outfit, at his face, at the way his body moves as he brings his hands into Zedaph’s loose, blonde hair, he thinks Grian wants something different.

‘Do you, bird?’, he asks, and he still makes sure to sound gentle, despite the pressure increasing with every breath he takes, especially as he brings their bodies together, Grian’s satin-covered cock, already hard beneath the thin layer, rubbing against his, because Zedaph _feels_ like he knows what Grian is after, but he doesn’t want to assume, especially seeing as it’s not something they do often, being quite gentle lovers with each other, ‘You got all dressed up… For me to fuck you in it?’

Grian’s eyes slip shut and Zedaph can _feel_ the moan he holds back as Grian shifts in his arms. He smiles. Yes, it seems like he’d been right, Zedaph thinks as he drops his head into the crook of Grian’s neck, nosing at the pale skin he finds there, his teeth scraping against it once Grian tilts his head to the side to show his own enthusiasm.

‘ _Please_ ’, Grian whispers and, this time, it _is_ a plea.

Zedaph giggles a little as he begins walking backwards, silently thanking himself for learning the layout of his cave to the point where he could traverse it blind, what with his portal contraption and the accuracy needed to complete it. Grian follows him, especially as Zedaph pulls back and stares into Grian’s eyes, feeling fire course through him at the way Grian chases his lips with his own in hope of a kiss. But Zedaph doesn’t give him that kindness, no, the moment the backs of his knees hit the frame of his bed, Zedaph pushes Grian into it, turning them around before it can be protested, and watching as Grian falls against the soft sheets, blinking his surprise away before his gaze returns to Zedaph’s.

There’s fondness and lust that fill Zedaph’s head with cotton, a buzzing where his thoughts should be, all portal plans forgotten as he kneels on the bed, crawling towards where Grian is spread out. Perhaps his body is trembling with anticipation a little, but that’s neither here nor there.

‘Or perhaps you’d rather I rip them off of you, bird?’, Zedaph asks, and even if it sounds more gentle than he’d meant it, some of the adoration shining through despite how hard he tries to be meaner, it makes Grian shiver and melt against the bedsheets, but then his legs spread, giving Zedaph a perfect view of the way his erection strains against the thin, black fabric, the muscles in his thighs shifting slightly under the sheer material of the thigh highs and Zedaph groans, softly, continuing to make his way up the bed until he can rest between Grian’s spread legs.

But Zedaph wouldn’t, despite how much he likes to play up his own roughness in the bedroom through dirty talk or some rather raunchy jokes, it’s not something he gets that into, besides, with everything he’s heard around the random campfire from the other hermits about just how _intense_ their sex lives can be, he and Grian are pretty tame by comparison, which works well enough for both of them, really.

But his words do make Grian moan, his voice breaking a little at the end and his legs tensing around Zedaph, his heels digging into his back just above his arse, and Zedaph almost collapses with how much the sound affects him, a whimper resting just behind the teeth digging into his own cheeks, but he wants to give Grian what he, as he himself had put it _, needs_ , so Zedaph swallows the sound down, after taking a moment to cool down, and leans in to actually lick at Grian’s lips. When they open beneath his own, Zedaph just pulls away however, smiling a bit meanly at the sound it prompts out of Grian, frustrated and more than a little turned on, perhaps even desperate.

A sharper turn of his features is what draws Zedaph’s attention the the hands fumbling with his own trousers, because it’s his turn to let out an uncontrollable sound, his face scrunching up as he does, but Grian is relentless, even as he his fingers brush against Zedaph’s erection in a way that has Zedaph feeling like he’s just about lost whatever string of thoughtfulness he might have been holding onto.

‘Anything you like, _just take me, love_ ’, Grian mewls when Zedaph’s cock is finally free of the restraints of his clothes and Zedaph cannot help but grind his crotch against Grian’s, delighting in the sounds Grian makes before he pulls back again and considers his lover, the whole situation and the way in which Zedaph should make things progress, but his brain doesn’t work, not with Grian fixing him with those beautiful dark eyes, all wrapped in pink satin, something about him too enticing, something tugging at Zedaph’s heart and, perhaps more importantly in the moment, at his cock.

With all of his lack of actual thinking, perhaps it is no surprise that Zedaph just rubs his dick against Grian, hands trembling where they rest on Grian’s knees, being reduced to soft groans and shaky moans, which is too say, he can barely hear himself over Grian’s noises, especially when Zedaph decides to move a little lower, brushing against Grian’s hole, noting the way the material seems damp and, when Zedaph realises that Grian had already prepared himself, a sob breaks through and his upper body collapses on Grian, his hands braced on each side of his head. There’s a giggle, Zedaph thinks, but the rush of blood in his ears and his heartbeat echo so loudly around them in the small nook of his bedroom that Zedaph barely even registers it, but he does feel it when nails sink into his back, the sting of marks being scratched into his skin from his shoulder blades all the way to his lower back, almost as though Grian were marking him up and, _God_ , the thought has Zedaph’s blood boiling over a point that he doesn’t think he can come back from, not right now. With a high scream, Zedaph thrusts against Grian again, but this time, his dick _does_ catch on Grian’s rim, even through the satin, and Zedaph thinks something snaps in him because it doesn’t quite feel real, even as pleasure shoots up his spine, even as wide eyes turn to him before narrowing in what looks like pure _ecstasy_.

And so he pulls back slightly and pushes back, again, panting and gasping, arms quivering, his whole body both tense and loose at the same time, until the head of his cock pushes against the fabric of the panties, against the thin layer of it, and, with the way Grian is moaning out his name, even if Zedaph can only hear it distantly, everything _too much_ and yet _not enough_ , with the way Zedaph thinks he can feel _blood_ welling up where Grian clings to him, perhaps it turns Grian on as much as it does him.

‘I- Fuck, _Grian-’_ , but Zedaph doesn’t find his words, not when every breath feels like it ignites his lungs, contributing to the feeling of being boiled alive in his own body, the heat and the pressure verging on painful, on _delicious_ , and so he continues fucking against Grian, _into_ Grian, the barrier of satin something that shouldn’t be as arousing as it is, but Zedaph can’t help it. He can’t help it when, at one point, when the pace is starting to get to him, when Grian looks up at him through teary eyes, when Zedaph’s whole body is thrumming with the nervous energy of a fast-building, all-encompassing orgasm, he thrusts a bit _too_ hard and Zedaph thinks they both wince at the sound of fabric ripping, but then he is _inside_ Grian, through the lingerie piece, warm walls clamping down on him in a maddening way, Grian all but having gone still with the sensations wracking through his own system.

‘Love, _please_ , _please just fuck me_ ’, Grian begs, sweetly, in a way, completely _gone,_ in another, and Zedaph cannot deny him, feels the way tears are gathering in his eyes as well and, though he loathes missing the sight Grian makes like this, Zedaph is more than a bit embarrassed about his own reactions, so he squeezes his eyes shut, moves his grip so he can hold onto Grian’s thighs instead, and begins moving.

Zedaph doesn’t have a rhythm, as close as he is, but he manages to bring one of his arms between their bodies when his eyes roll back, when the sounds he tries to keep back make him taste the same blood that turns the pain on his back into something so much sweeter in the first place, because, and he wraps his fingers around Grian, through the panties, satin be damned, rubbing him as best as he can, he wants to make Grian come first and, with the way his body is starting to twitch, Zedaph doesn’t think he will last much longer himself, but Grian shouldn't be too far from his own end either, not when his body is just a tense mess of limbs and sweat and tears that roll down his cheeks, precum staining the pink fabric around his crotch.

‘I _love_ you, _I love you so much_ ’, Grian whispers, arching into Zedaph’s own body and his thrusts stutter with how much those few words affect Zedaph, because they _do_ , because he can’t quite function anymore.

‘I- Bird, I-’, but Zedaph can’t say it, he can’t. He cannot find his voice, let alone the words, and what tumbles out of his mouth is a soft moan instead, one that seems as fragile as the ledge he is standing over, ready to collapse and let his own orgasm consume him, but Grian understands, he cups Zedaph’s face with both of his hands and pulls him into a kiss, letting Zedaph swallow his moans, doing the same for him, his hips moving subtly where Zedaph’s fuck into him chaotically, wildly, he _understands_ and he comes closer, if that is even possible, bodies pushing aginst each other’s when Zedaph sucks on his tongue, barely keeping his teeth back, barely able to hold himself from spilling over until-

And then Grian comes with a shout and Zedaph falls.

Later, Grian will admonish him for having _fucked_ through his new lingerie set and Zedaph will give him a tired smile as he tries to stay awake until Grian is asleep himself, but he won’t be able to hold out long enough and, if, in the morning, Zedaph wakes up in Grian’s arms, feeling soft and warm and _loved_ , then no one will need to know about the soft sound he lets out or about how he burrows himself a bit deeper into the nest of pale arms that hold him with as much tenderness as Zedaph puts into the kiss he manages to somehow twist his body around enough in order to lay across a naked shoulder.

3.

Zedaph had sent the message while Grian had been busy procrastinating on working on his mansion, going through his mess of shulker boxes outside the massive building, _sorting them_ , he’d told himself at first, even if, now, he is merely marveling at just how chaotic his organisational skills can be when he lets them get out of hand, finding diamonds where, really, no diamonds should be, and Grian takes the distraction his communicator dinging in his pocket offers and runs with it.

 _< Zedaph> Anyone want to prove their skills? Come now to Zed’s base (using Elytra, north of Impulse’s) with bow and arrow poised…_, the message reads, _hmmm_ , Grian goes as he sits down on one of the many shulker boxes littering the ground, a smile tugging at his lips even as he considers whether to take Zedaph up on whatever, probably contraption related, plan he has, but honestly, Grian doesn’t think it’s much of a choice when his heart skips a beat as the image of purple eyes, crinkled at the edges in laughter, a warm, pink tint on his cheeks as he giggles at Grian probably almost flying into a wall, busy as he is looking back at his boyfriend as he leaves the Cave of Contraptions, nor when his own cheeks heat up, the memory of that laughter echoing in his ears.  
Yet, at the same time, Grian is, painfully so, aware of how little time they’d actually spent together recently. Grian had really gone all in with his Nether project and Zedaph had tried to revamp his cave, even if he’d done so mostly by revising some of his already finished contraptions and thinking up plans for his future projects. God, Grian has to look away from Zedaph’s name on the communicator’s screen, fingers twitching around the devices, because he just wants to hold Zedaph again, to feel the featherlight weight of his lips on Grian’s, to get to spend some time with him. Grian blinks and pockets his communicator, slowly standing up from the box and looking around, wondering if he’d seen any bows in any of the shulkers all around him, but, at the same time, another plan is also forming in Grian’s mind and he is, perhaps too easily, distracted, a grin slowly curling on his face, even as his heart speeds up, making his body thrum with excitement.

He will make sure their small reunion will be special, Grian decides, already working on the buckles on his armour after finding _exactly_ what he’d been searching for.

In no time at all, rockets can be heard being fired from Grian’s base, but before even the birds can fly off of the top of the trees, startled by the figure whizzing past them in a flurry of sparks and softly glowing, purple elytra wings, Grian is gone.

* * *

Grian is the last person to arrive at Zedaph’s base in order to test his newest contraption, and, in a way, he is glad, even as hic communicator dings with encouragements and little tipps that Zedaph gives the other hermits who do, also, come by to visit him, that is, Tango, Cub and Impulse, and Grian isn’t really sure what to make of the words Zedaph types out, though adrenaline courses through him at the idea of something a bit more difficult to go through. Grian continues flying nonetheless, in a way cursing his boyfriend for building his base so far away from his own but, with the amount of times they _don’t_ spend in each other’s beds at either of their bases being minimal, it really doesn’t matter much, when they’re not busy with another projects, at least. Even so, the sky darkens around him, shade by shade, second by second and, by the time he reaches Zedaph’s cave, the world is washed in a shade of dark purple, the red overtone barely enough for Grian to make out the shapes of the world around him, but he knows Zedaph’s area well enough and, by the time the mountain surrounded by deserts in the front and a sprawling spruce forest in the back come into view, Grian’s excitement for both the contraption and what Grian has planned for later are enough to make his flight a little bit less controlled, a little more wild.

He expects to fly down and meet Zedaph inside his cave, but that turns out not to be the case because, ever so faintly, he hears his name being called so far below him that, against the darker grass of the mountain top, he only barely notices Zedaph and, even then, mostly because he is standing near a square lined in yellow and black which draws the eye onto itself.

Even from this far away, Grian’s heart squeezes in his chest, but before he can become more flustered than he strictly needs to be, approaching the ground quickly, Zedaph begins flailing about, and Grian squints just as it clicks because his boyfriend is pointing at some target blocks placed into the ground just next to what Grian assumes to be some sort of redstone door of kinds, if Grian had heard his ramblings right during one night when Grian hadn’t been able to sleep and Zedaph had chattered about everything and anything his words could wrap around, so Grian smiles and remembers Zedaph mentioning a bow and arrow, but, suddenly, with a mental facepalm dragging down his blank features, as he reaches for an arrow to aim at the target bloks, Grian realises that, despite his preparations, he’ forgotten one essential thing: arrows.

With his pride somewhat bruised, Grian angles himself for the ground, even as he takes out his communicator and types a quick message, explaining the situation and, when he looks down at Zedaph again, who is quickly growing closer, he can see him waving around a handful of arrows excitedly. Grian feels his smile sharpen into a grina as, without any warning, he simply zooms past Zedaph, snatching the arrows and cackling a bit madly at the startled sound he just about catches, before turning his body towards the sky, shooting more rockets into the still, evening air.

The thought of wide, purple eyes and the indignant little sound he'd let out as Grian had caught a glimpse of him from closer up stick to Grian’s mind and he cannot deny the way warmth spreads through his chest, the slightest flush also adorning his cheeks, but he is too high up and moving too quickly for Zedaph to see it, so he rests easily in that knowledge as he begins aiming for the target blocks.

It takes a few tries, but it looks much easier than it really is, coordinating himself to shoot his shot and angle his body _just_ right in order to actually also go through the door as it closes again, while also avoiding slamming into it while it is still not open enough to allow a person through, but Grian, eventually, manages to slip just past the machine’s doors, the very end of one of his wings clipped by the mechanism, but the enchanting stays strong, its magic holding the shimmering fabric of it together.

Gently, Grian floats down, a breath escaping him at all the new contraptions and changes he can see around Zedaph’s base, the cave having extended further inwards from the last time he’d seen it and, mentally, Grian makes a note to compliment Zedaph on it. It’s nothing like Grian’s prettier, aesthetic focused builds but, in a way, the contraptions balance each other out, some of them actually detailed to the point where Grian has to blink a little before realising that the advice Zedapph keeps asking for _is_ , in fact, being used, and isn’t that a heartwarming thought?

Softly, Grian’s feet meet the stone floor and he braces himself for the landing, knowing that, despite the slow speed of his descent, there is still momentum in the motion that he has to prepare for, lest it make him stumble. Grian breathes out, letting himself stay still for just a second, taking the cave in whilst also ignoring the way his heart speeds up against his ribs in a not unpleasant way and, as he finally comes to a halt entirely, his thoughts drift to his little plan. Grian places his hands on his hips and smiles a little at a flustered look it would bring onto Zedaph’s face, his cheeks turning adorably pink before darkening into enticing red, and Grian almost can’t wait.

Soon, however, the door above him opens again and, if he squints, Grian thinks he can see a blonde head of hair peeking around its edge but, after what only feels like a particularly short moment, they close again. Even so, Grian smiles and crouches, strapping his bow back on his back and grabbing a few rockets, already ready to be set off, the weight of them familiar and comforting in his hands. When the doors open again, Grian is already passing by them as quickly as his wings can carry him.

To say Grian tackles Zedaph the moment he lays eyes on him again, on the way he stands out against the night sky, stars glittering behind him like jewels that outline his silhouette, light from some of the torches that he must have laid down while Grian had still been inside the cave giving him a warmer hue, a more vulnerable look too, is an understatement, really. Both of them tumble into the grass, just barely avoiding unearthing one of said torches, Grian giggling wildly and Zedaph squeaking in surprise as his hands take hold of Grian even as he falls to the ground.

The world takes a moment to stop spinning around them but, when it does, Grian suddenly finds himself looking down at Zedaph sprawled beneath him, breathing heavy with lingering adrenaline, but eyes so soft, the light making them look even gentler, that Grian feels like he melts from within even as he uses his own hands, placed on either side of his body, to elevate his torso. Those plump lips form around laughter, soon enough, and all at once, Grian is reminded of, well, not _the_ , but surely one of the reasons he loves Zedaph. It’s almost too sweet to see and leaning down to kiss the laughter and breath away from him is the only thing Grian can think to do, a small noise escaping him as he takes a sharp inhale before capturing Zedaph’s lips with his own.

The kiss doesn't go much deeper than that, at least for now, and, when Grian pulls away and looks at Zedaph again, he is startled by the feeling of hands cupping his face, their touch almost trembling with how soft it is, Zedaph holding Grian’s face between the palms of his hands as if he were something precious, as if his whole world were resting in his grasp and, in a way, with the adoration clear on his face, Grian almost thinks that might be true to some extent, and the thought makes him turn dark red in a matter of seconds, the tips of his ears burning and his heart doing flips in his chest, all but racing and beating out of control.

Carefully, Grian exhales, and Zedaph closes his eyes, pulling Grian’s face closer until their foreheads meet, their nose brushing together, their lips a breath apart, and Grian feels like the world around them fades out of existence, just for a moment.

‘Hello, love’, he whispers, his voice small, so as to not disturb the air around them, mor the balance of emotion and touch that Zedaph always seems to nail so precisely, and Zedaph’s eyes open again. Torchlight reflects itself in the purple, turning them almost pink, but his cheeks also darken, even as they are pinched in a smile, and Grian can’t help but peck his lips again, swallowing just the softest noise that Zedaph makes as he does.

‘Gri...’, is moaned against his lips, quietly, and Grian buries his face in the crook of Zedaph’s neck next, his hands searching Zedaph’s body until they come to rest against on his waist and, as their position changes ever so slightly, Zedaph’s fingers also move from holding his face to massaging his back lightly, unbuckling the tight leather straps of the elytra that Grian hadn’t even realised were digging into the meat of his body, distracted as he’d been with everything that is _Zedaph_.

Grian moves his legs so he is straddling Zedaph when he next pushes himself away from his boyfriend, sitting in his lap and almost melting all over again as he looks at the peaceful, close-eyed expression on Zedaph’s face. With the lighting being what it is, Grian can only barely make out the hint of freckles spreading over the bridge of Zedaph’s nose, but it is well enough because, at least with the warm night settling around them, they don’t really have to move. Grian isn’t sure his legs would support him if he were to stand up now, either way.

Zedaph’s hands are featherlight when they push against his sweater slightly and Grian knows physical contact isn’t something that always means sex for them because Zedaph all but melts when they meet directly, skin on skin, on a better day, but Zedaph’s eyes are wide open and his mouth parts when his fingers brush against the thin, frail material that hides underneath the sweater, small patterns woven into the fabric, even if the extra thread still keeps the garment as sheer as anything, and Grian smiles, then.

‘Gri, you… Did you...’, Zedaph swallows, but he doesn’t seem to find his words and, for a moment, Grian is too distracted by the way the muscles of his throat move around his syllables to actually respond, but then he catches himself, again, and he runs a hand up Zedaph’s chest beneath the fluffy cardigan .

‘I missed you’, Grian says simply and, when they meet in a kiss again, it is slightly more heated, but somehow just as, if not perhaps even more tender than before, because Zedaph opens under his ministrations as if on instinct and Grian feels the way his brain goes a bit fuzzy at the realisation, but he simply puts his own reaction into the kiss, his other hand moving away, only to return to the back of Zedah’s head so he can tilt his head the way he wants to, kissing Zedaph even more deeply, exhaling loudly when Zedaph’s tongue traces his own lips, and Grian knows he’s already a mess, the affection and arousal pooling in his stomach mixing together until they make him feel like he is floating, even if Zedaph’s hands are still on his hips and, before Grian actually loses himself in the slow pace of things, in the loving caresses, Grian breaks the kiss, almost smiling at the little whine that earns him. He makes sure to brush against a nipple as he brings his hands back out from underneath Zedaph’s cardigan, which makes Zedaph arch into him, the start of an erection moving against Grian’s thigh tantalizingly, but Grian pays it no mind for now and simply reaches for the hem of his own sweater, removing the material with light fingers, until he is left in the periwinkle blue lingerie set that is more patterns than it is actual coverage, but if the way Zedaph goes a bit crosseyed before falling back into the grass beneath him is at all significant, he doesn’t mind, not at all, and Grian giggles. His trousers are a bit harder to remove, but he manages, and his socked feet push against the grass once his pants and shoes are out of the way, leaving Grian in the fragile fabric that stretches over his body in what, going by Zedaph’s expression, is _devastating_.

‘Do you like it? I had Stress help me make it a while back. She’s good at the softer, more sensitive fabrics, you know?’, Zedaph does, in fact know, but Grian is aware that he shouldn’t think about what their friend had outfitted Zedaph with during a particular occasion, their anniversary, lest he lose his mind a little. _Again_. Although, and Grian has to take a breath to bring some semblance of intelligence back into his own fuzzy brain, it’s not like he is far away from that now, with the way Zedaph keeps looking at him.

‘I… I always find y-you… You’re beautiful, bird. You always are. But I...’, Zedaph tries and Grian sees the way he struggles not to choke on his own words, so he takes pity on his lover and simply shushes him before unbuttoning Zedaph’s cardigan. The tanned expanse of skin comes into view bit by bit, but Grian has to bite his lip and blink for a second to keep himself from just laying down and sucking on one of Zedaph’s nipples, already peaked with arousal, once they come into view. He doesn’t remove the article, deciding that it might be better if Zedaph has a layer between himself and the grass anyway, but he does move lower, unbuttoning Zedaph’s trousers and pushing them down his legs with almost clumsy fingers, but soon enough, soft flesh comes into view and Grian almost groans at, not only the pink erection curving towards Zedaph stomach, but at how all of him is just so pliant beneath him, so soft and so, so very warm.

‘It’s ok, love’, Grian murmurs against Zedaph’s lips once they are both brought to a satisfactory state of undress, and Zedaph sighs at the words, his chest expanding with it before he goes boneless against the grass once more, and Grian continues, ‘Can I…?’

And Grian doesn’t use any explicit terms, but he moves up Zedaph’s body, the innuendo obvious enough. Zedaph takes a moment to collect his thoughts, but the smile that he gives Grian, then, is almost blinding, a short nod accompanying it, and Grian can only exhale roughly as he continues moving upwards, his thighs brushing against Zedaph’s warm body with every shuffling movement.

Seconds later that feel like an eternity has passed in the sweet atmosphere of feelings that surround them, Grian is hovering above Zedaph’s face, his thighs quivering, knee-high socks almost slipping even further down his legs, and one of Grian’s hands is carding through the pale blonde locks on Zedaph’s head, but they take it slow, because it’s what they both need right now.

Zedaph turns his head a little to kiss the inside of one thigh and Grian feels like his own insides collapse in on themselves, even as he finally, _finally_ lowers his body enough that Zedaph’s kisses can trail closer to where Grian is aching for his lover. This time around, the lingerie is made with a specific purpose in mind and, though Zedaph breathes out in surprise when he realises that Grian is as exposed down there as he can be, the fabric actually sewn in a heart shaped hole at the back, he doesn't wait too long before the tip of his tongue traces Grian’s perineum, making him shudder and close his eyes at the feeling of the pleasure already boiling its way through his body igniting at the contact.

‘F-fuck, love...’, Grian stutters, but Zedaph takes the almost silent words as his cue because, suddenly, that warm tongue is moving lower, Zedaph humming as he leaves a wet kiss over Grian’s hole, saliva pooling at the corners of his lips already, and it’s all Grian can do to stay _sane_ , to grip Zedaph’s hair in a tighter grip, pulling at the strands more roughly as he all but grinds against Zedaph’s mouth on him.

Grian _thinks_ he can hear Zedaph moan beneath him, but more than that, he _feels_ it, the vibrations making him twitch. Zedaph moves his tongue steadily, but all too gently, tracing Grian’s hole before dipping inside him again, making Grian’s muscles stretch around him easily, but Grian takes it all in stride, his mouth open as he pants his pleasure into the night air, something inside him climbing higher and higher with the pressure that threatens to overwhelm him and he almost wishes he could give Zedaph this, right now, too, that he could make his lover sing, but Grian barely holds under the sweet touches, especially as Zedaph’s hands find their way to Grian’s thighs, following the delicate movements of his fingers with even softer pinches when Grian pushes down a bit too hard and, in this moment, Grian wishes he could see Zedaph’s face but, as the image takes shape in his mind, Zedaph, mouth open, tongue lolling out, purple eyes hazy with _something_ , lips shiny with spit, Grian squeezes his eyes shut and focuses on anything else but how he is about to come.

He doesn’t realise he’s begun biting his lips until Zedaph pulls back, just a little, his hands so close to Grian’s aching cock that Grian thinks, if Zedaph would ask him, he’d do and say just about anything to get Zedaph to wrap his hand around the throbbing length of it, but that isn’t what Zedaph says in a voice that both makes Grian’s heart freeze for a second before it rushes with love and that makes his pleasure spike, again, words so soft, just a whisper next to Grian’s harsh breaths:  
‘I want to hear you, bird...’

Grian isn’t cruel enough to deny him that one request, not when Zedaph dives back in with more passion than before, almost as though he were looking for something, but the wet slide against his walls is enough to have Grian wailing and, suddenly, moaning out loud is not a choice as much as it is just a response to everything. Grian thinks he feels Zedaph’s fingers dig into his thighs a little before it happens, but then there’s heat around his cock, pressure so sweet that Grian can’t help but buck into the grip, and everything else falls away.

‘You’re so good for me, s-so good...’, Grian says, choking on a moan as his back arches, the barely there movements of his hips sparking dual pleasure in him as that only helps Zedaph’s hand move a bit more easily on his cock, while also making his tongue reach even deeper inside Grian, ‘Always so good, _fuck_...’

Zedaph doubles his efforts, then, and, though there is only so much he can do with his hand trapped in a bit of an uncomfortable position as it is and his tongue can only reach so far, it is enough, is _more_ than enough, especially as his fingers squeeze Grian’s just that little bit more. Zedaph pulls back, again, his eyes opening, and they almost seem to glow in the darkening scene around them, his lips entirely red and Grian knows _why_ and his expression almost _painful_ with how aroused he looks, brows creased together, chin trembling a little, and Grian almost uses his grip to pull him back so he can ride his tongue a little longer but, once the thought enters his mind, of Zedaph’s face streaked with his own come, it pushes Grian over the edge quickly enough.

There’s a high moan that echoes around them as Grian falls into the pit of his own orgasm, body twitching, limbs numb with it, but Grian almost fails to recognise his own voice over the sound of blood rushing in his ears, something like sparks going off at the edges of his vision, but the only thing he can focus on is how strings of white land across those lips that Grian loves kissing so much, the colour standing out all too well against red cheeks and, when Zedaph’s mouth opens a little, tongue sticking out with a small noise, Grian all but collapses as his cock gives one more painfully spurt of his own release.

His body is buzzing when he comes back to himself, aware but not receptive to his surroundings and, when he does, they are standing in the grass, Grian’s head tucked into Zedaph’s neck again, the smell of warm skin, of something sweet and distinctly Zedaph, comforting and coaxing himto push against the pleasure-induced sleepiness.

‘Gri? All good?’, Zedaph asks, voice on the edge of a whisper, soft enough so as to not disturb him, but still making itself heard. Grian thinks he can hear crickets and what he thinks may be the sound of some idle machinery down in the cave, but it all takes a backseat to the way Zedaph starts humming once Grian nods and moves to rest his forehead against his boyfriend’s sternum, the tune close to harmonizing with his heartbeat, but just a little off, and it makes Grian giggle quietlt, but as he cuddles further into Zedaph’s arms, his legs spread around Grian’s frame, Grian opens his eyes just for a bit and he notices how Zedaph is still hard. Looking up reveals that, obviously, he hadn’t magicked the come Grian had marked his face with away and, all at once, heat rushes to his face and towards other places which hurt as arousal zips through him once again.  
It’s not as strong as it had been when they’d started, Grian will need a bit more time for that to be the case, but as he and Zedaph lock eyes, suddenly, all Grian wants is to see Zedaph as he loses himself and it isn’t just a wish really, it’s more like a wave of need burning like liquid fire through his veins.

Zedaph makes a bit of a disappointed sound when Grian pulls away from him, but it fades when Grian kisses him and, _God_ , he can taste his own come on Zedaph’s lips and that fact arouses Grian more than he thinks it should, but he doesn’t want this to turn into another makeout session, as much as ending the kiss pains him, because it has done its job, it’s distracted Zedaph enough that, when Grian looks at him again, a warm grin taking shape on his lips, Zedaph only leans into him when he caresses come stained cheeks, gathering what he can of the somewhat warm liquid still there and, before Zedaph can actually ask what Grian is doing, and Grian mentally thanks himself for having bothered to drag Zedaph’s trousers down while he’d had both hands free because soon enough, he is tracing the rim of Zedaph’s hole with his fingers, the come making everything slicker and that much messier.

And Zedaph’s eyes turn glossy, then, breath escaping him as Grian plunges his fingers inside him, knowing he won’t really meet a lot of resistance, not when Zedaph is like this, already on the edge, only waiting for a whisper of something lewd or a touch where he’s sensitive to tip him over, and it’s exactly what Grian gives him when he leans in and begins speaking, his lips brushing against the shell of Zedaph’s ear, Grian’s other hand busying itself with his mouth, fingers tracing soft lips until they give and that does the trick, having him from both ends like this when he’s already waited this long.

‘I know how much you like getting fucked’, Zedaph tenses up, as if it’s too much, but he is whimpering for more and Grian can tell by the way his cock twitches against his stomach that it won’t be long, now, ‘So come on my fingers, love. Be a good boy for me a little longer.’

Zedaph _does_ , going rigid in Grian’s grasp, his eyes rolling back, and Grian knows the image he paints will haunt on many a nights when they can’t have each other, Zedaph sucking on his fingers as he’s being fingered, eyes closed while ecstasy crashes against him from too many sides at once, making him submit to its pressure, Grian’s own dick giving a valiant effort to rise back up, but Grian ignores it as he just lays Zedaph down into the grass again, falling against the mess of trembling limbs and short breaths and loud heart beats that is his lover.

They stay outside a while longer, until the cold, mild though it may be, becomes too much for quickly chilling skin and the sensation of dried come turns into a discomfort. It’s to no one’s surprise that they spend the rest of the night, after getting cleaned up, in each other’s arms, talking until they both drift off, warm and safe and in love in each other’s embrace.

+1.

Surprisingly,Grian manages to land into the main hall of Decked Out without actually slamming into the narrow, well, at least, narrow to _fly_ through, staircase leading downward, the crying obsidian throwing a faint glow onto the otherwise black and crimson colour scheme of the game and the sound of his feet faint enough that Grian almost wants to applaud himself for a landing well done, but his own pride settles a little as his eyes fall on one of the blonds waiting for him there, his heart seizing just a little as a smile makes those purple eyes that he loves so much narrow a little and Grian has already forgotten why he is here by the time Tango begins speaking, lost as he is when Zedaph’s smile widens even more once Grian’s face heats up a little and a grin of his own stretches across his lips.

‘Glad to see you lovebirds together again’, Tango says with a lopsided smirk and there’s a yelp as Zedaph’s elbow connects to his ribs. Grian laughs at their antics for a momwnt and puts his rockets away, adjusting some of the buckles of the elytra before he rests one hand on his hip and gives both Tango and Zedaph an expectant look. There’s a basket filled with baked goodies that Stress and Xisuma had helped him make just this morning waiting for him and Zedaph back on the surface and Grian just kind of wants to see if Zedaph will like the treats, though, if Grian is being honest with himself, he also just really wants to lay down in the grass with Zedaph, maybe sprawled across Zedaph’s lap, and look at his boyfriend as he closes his eyes against the setting sun bathing him in warm light, yellows bleeding into oranges, bleeding into reds, bleeding into a deep purple. That’s not something Grian will admit to anyone other than himself though, even if his cheeks redden just a little bit further.

‘Well then, I think this shall be my cue to leave, my dear friend Tango’, Zedaph says, expression sharpening just a little bit as he turns to Tango and stands on his tiptoes to ruffle golden strand of hair until they stick out in all directions worse than they usually do and, just for the barest of seconds, Grian feels a twinge somewhere in his chest.

Then Tango laughs and waves them off and Zedaph’s arms are wrapping around Grian’s neck, his smile something Grian can feel against his skin and, with Zedaph’s scent and warmth and a whispered _let’s go, bird_ , it’s like Grian’s brain just shuts down entirely, filled with mush as it is, and whatever it is he’d felt, it fades into the comfortable space where he can’t really think about anything that isn’t how much he loves his boyfriend, and so Grian pays it no mind whenZedaph clings to him and giggles sheepishly as they fly out, still embraced.

* * *

It’s a few days later that Grian finds Impulse and Zedaph looking at a shulker box consideringly, a pickaxe in one of Impulse’s hands and his communicator in the other. Zedaph is tapping a finger against his chin before making a small comment, tilting his head ever so slightly before looking up at Impulse with a crease between his brows. They are standing in front of Impulse’s emerald and totem shop and it’s already getting late, but he knows that Zedaph and Impulse are probably collecting more resources for Tango, trying to help out their friend in any way they can, have been doing so for the past couple of days, weeks maybe, and really, Grian can see why. The game is a huge mechanism to maintain and Grian can’t remember the last time he’d seen Tango not looking like he’s been awake for at least a few days without a break, that is, happy but very, very tired.

And Grian knows he should leave them to it, should just go check on the barge before maybe swooping down to say hello and to remind them that all three of them should take it easy, he could probably even give Zedaph a quick kiss before he is off to prepare for his own projects, stacks upon stacks of mycelium filling his pockets, but there’s something that tugs at Grian’s own brain when he sees Impulse patting Zedaph’s shoulder comfortingly, a gentle smile on his face, and Zedaph sighs before relaxing into it, shaking his head and biting his lip before opening the shulker and rummaging through it.

Grian shoots another rocket to keep himself afloat, close enough to see all of this, but too far for them to hear him and he knows, he _knows_ none of this means a thing, that Zedaph is just hanging out with one of his friends, that none of this should bother him as much as it seems to do, but something about the way Impulse seems to loom over Zedaph doesn’t want to leave Grian’s mind, for some damned reason, the way Zedaph leans into it before resting his hands on his hips, giving another nod in Impulse’s general direction and bidding him goodnight as Impulse flies towards the entrance to Decked Out, shulker box held steadily in his hands.

There’s confusion and something else that Grian can’t identify, though perhaps it is something he doesn’t _want_ to identify, both sentimente swirling around in his head, mixing until they become a dizzying amalgam of feelings that Grian can find no common thread amongst, that he cannot put together coherently.

Sure, Zedaph is close to Impulse and Tango, they’d known each since before Grian had even joined the hermits, but-

And maybe that’s it, isn’t it?  
Grian ducks behind one of the taller buildings of the Shopping District when Zedaph looks up at the sky, equipping his own elytra and fumbling with a rocket, but his mind is still reeling, his heart slowing down in his chest, as if his own thoughts are bringing it closer to what might be a full stop, and Grian knows he’s being irrational, knows he is just feeding into his own insecurities, but he can’t help but remember what his and Zedaph first meeting had been like, how he’d been sort of clinging to his friends before he’d introduced himself to Grian, and Grian thinks about how he’d had to ask Zedaph, explicitly, if he and Impulse and Tango were together before he’d actually confessed. At that time, Zedaph had just smiled, shaken his head and had grabbed Grian’s face in his hands, gently enough that it had made a shiver run down Grian’s spine, before he’d smooched him, right in the middle of his own travelling cart and, afterwards, Grian had wondered if this had just been a distraction to deter him from accusing Zedaph of violating the cart’s Zedaph ban, but it hadn’t stopped Grian from leaning in and kissing Zedaph’s breath away.

And, so, Grian is actually pretty sure he has no reason to believe, to _assume_ anything, he knows Zedaph loves him, he knows he and the other two are friends, good friends, to the point where they more so resemble family, but, and Grian drags his hands down his face with an exasperated, if silent groan, it still gets to him.

He’s just overthinking things, Grian is sure of that. He should just-

‘Grian?’

Damn everything and everyone.

Zedaph’s voice is suddenly really close because Zedaph is right there, standing in front of him, his rocket sticking out of his pack for now, and there’s concern on Zedaph’s face, his lips pulled down in a tiny frown, and Grian hates seeing him like that, so he blinks, takes a moment to breathe and forces a small grin onto his own lips, which quiver a bit at the fakeness of it, but Zedaph relaxes a little and, when he takes a step towards Grian, arms open for a tentative hug, giving Grian all the time to refuse the touch or to go in for something else, Grian collapses in Zedaph’s arms the moment they wrap around him, his mind quieting down a little, for now.

‘All good, bird?’, Zedaph asks, and his voice is small, barely above a whisper, gentle where it would usually play up some sort of joke, caring in a way that makes Grian’s heart ache.

No, Zedaph would never betray his trust, it’s not in his nature, and Zedaph is his, isn’t he? Just as much as Grian is his, for as long as they’ll have each other.

Grian lets himself melt into the hold and murmurs something into Zedaph’s warm skin, softly enough that he thinks, _hopes_ Zedaph doesn’t hear it.

‘Am now.’

And they stay like that for a while longer, hugging before they both have to run off to do their own chores, but Grian is a bit calmer afterwards, the seed of doubt having been stomped into the ground firmly enough that it won’t come back to him just yet.

But he knows this isn’t over, Grian knows himself well enough, knows that his brian will absolutely turn on itself once he is alone and he braces himself for a night of introspection and having to wrangle himself into a place where he can just let himself love his boyfriend without it being tainted by something as immature and as unfounded as _jealousy_.

* * *

Grian is twisting and turning in his bed by the time night falls, eyes unable to keep themselves shut as he stares at the high ceiling of the, well at least mostly, finished part of the mansion where his temporary bedroom is set up somewhere in the corner, and it’s quiet tonight, the sounds of the jungle just distant background noise that, for all intents and purposes, would usually help him fall asleep more easily, but as it stands, Grian’s heartbeat seems almost obnoxiously loud in his own ears and there’s something pulling at his brain, even if Grian refuses to think about it.

Well, he tries to. Still, his mind drifts to Zedaph, caged in against a wall by someone else, eyes wide and adoring, looking a bit lovestruck, a bit foolish with it, and Grian hadn’t ever seen him look at someone beside himself like, of course he hadn’t, but it still _hurts_ , even as he tries to screw his eyes shut against it, it makes the pressure in his head flare up into a full blown headache and Grian groans as he sits up in bed, blanket pooling at his waist, a foot hanging out of the bed and into the cool night air. Grian shivers a little, but he runs a hand down his face, and he is almost tempted to just punch himself out of consciousness, but he knows it won’t help and, so, with a loud sigh, Grian gathers his pillow and his blanket in his arms. He wonders if he might fall asleep more easily in a cozier space but, really, he just wants to not lie down right now, so the short walk to his starter base is as delightful as can be.

Soon enough, he is carefully stepping over the wooden floor, avoiding the planks in it that will probably make more noise than Grian can handle right now, and he is just laying his things out on the backup bed, yawning and hoping that, perhaps, in the smaller, wood lined room, he will find some peace, but even if he can’t, at least he’ll have a nicer view, Grian thinks as he throws one more look out the circular window.

And then Grian stops in his tracks when he hears a series of repetitive clicking sounds.

Black eyes widen before they narrow again in suspicion, but as Grian straightens himself, cursing himself for not having taken his pack with him, where his weapons and communicator are stored, he just continues listening. It is easy to conclude that it probably isn’t a mob, simply because of the sharper nature of the sounds, but their rhythm is still more footstep-like than Grian would like and it, whatever it may be, is getting closer.

Something shifts in Grian and he braces himself to flee or to fight, if the threat isn’t as pronounced as his own treacherous brain has him believing. Still, Grian hides just behind the door frame as best as he can, fingers clenched into fists by his side, and he takes a deep, silent breath.

And just as something, _someone_ steps through the door, Grian almost launches himself at them, but with the pale light flittering through the window somewhere behind him, Grian catches a glimpse of light blonde hair and purple eyes and he almost stumbles over himself as he steps back, body confused as to whether he is trying to escape or confront Zedaph and, were it not for two careful hands grabbing him by the shoulders, Grian is sure he would have fallen onto his bum during the whole sudden flurry of activity.

As it stands, Grian is steadied by the grip on him and, as the hands leave him and all that is left is the two of them, standing in the middle of Grian’s old bedroom, shadows elongated behind them in the mild light from outside, Grian has to look _up_ at Zedaph and the thought takes him aback. They’re both about the same height, maybe just the smallest of differences between their builds, Zedaph being a bit softer where Grian is leaner, which helps him fly more easily when it comes down to it, but he’s never had to look up at Zedaph before and, as he gives his lover a onceover, Grian finds out why and his breath catches in his throat.

First and foremost, Grian hadn’t expected Zedaph at all, especially not with his own headspace as much of a mess as it is right now, illogical and doubtful where it should be steady and unflinching, but as he looks at him, as he takes in the way Zedaph’s body shifts as he reaches for one of the lanterns hanging from the ceiling just in a corner, lighting it up and smiling at Grian as soon as his gaze returns to him, and Grian wonders if his face is as red as it feels, because as even more light floods the room, bouncing off of wooden walls, chasing away some of the trickier shadows, making everything clear while still keeping a bit of a moody atmosphere about the small room, and suddenly Grian can see Zedaph.

He is staring and his mouth is open, if just a little, but Grian isn’t sure he can help himself, not when his eyes trace the edge of white lace curving around tanned skin, shifting with each and every one of Zedaph’s breaths and small movements, but Grian’s gaze wanders down too, taking in every detail, from the nearly transparent bodice worked in fine detail, laces tying it together at the front, keeping the material tight against his skin even as pink nipples peak from the slight chill and push against it, but the underpants are just as distracting, really, and there’s no doubt in Grian’s mind as to why Zedaph is here once he catches sight of the way his cock presses against it, half hard in the white, lace confines of the piece, but as Grian finally finds the source of the clicking, almost drooling as he watches the way Zedaph’s legs shift ever so slightly in the very frail looking material of the thigh highs he is wearing, the heels come into view, and Grian wonders if he’s lost his mind, if he’s actually fallen asleep and is dreaming this whole thing, because if he is, he doesn’t really want to wake up, not just yet, not when Zedaph’s whole posture changes because of the damned shoes, his legs somehow even more enticing than they usually are, even if-

There’s a hand cupping Grian’s cheek, making him look up at Zedaph’s face once more and Grian almost whimpers at the soft look in Zedaph’s eyes, reminding him so much of the image Grian hadn’t been able to chase from his mind all day, Zedaph looking at someone else like that, at Impulse, at Tango, fuck, maybe at someone entirely different, and it brings an ache with it but-

But Zedaph smiles, then, tenderly, and he leans down to press a kiss to Grian’s brow, using his other hand to brush his bangs to the side as he does, and it’s so tender that it makes Grian close his eyes, going almost weak in the knees as the lips trail around his face, kissing his cheek, going even lower, leaving a small kiss at his chin too and then, finally, pecking him on the lips so softly that Grian’s lips tingle after Zedaph pulls away.

‘Love, what’s all… This?’, Grian asks after silence settles around them, because tension still permeates it, and he is looking at Zedaph, at the way the softness fits itself against just the slightest hint of sheepishness on his face, but then Zedaph is shaking his had and stepping back, looking down at himself, almost nervous in the way he crosses his arms over his chest, not meeting Grian’s eyes, and it would be funny, how shy Zedaph becomes the moment Grian points at the outfit, but Grian still feels the way heat stirs in him at the sight of his lover like this.

‘Well, today you seemed a bit… You…’, Zedaph takes a breath and he is squirming in place, face turning even redder and Grian realises that Zedaph is doubting his own decisions right now, wondering if this had been the right thing to do, but before Grian can jump forward and tell Zedaph just how beautiful he is, Zedaph gathers himself as best as he can and tries to look into Grian’s eyes again, a tiny smile curling on his lips, a few strands of light blond hair hanging about his face in a way that makes Grian want to reach out and brush them behind his ears before he can cup Zedaph’s face and kiss him senseless, ‘I thought you seemed a bit off, today, these last few days really. I just… Thought I could give you a way to u-unwind...’

And the last part is spoken quietly, almost too quietly, but Grian catches the jist of it and, suddenly, they are both just as flustered, looking at one another before Zedaph laughs nervously and his eyes fall to the floor as he rubs one of his arms, but Grian can feel the love and adoration he feels for the man before him bubble up in his chest to the point where it’s almost suffocating, but in the best of ways, and so, when he steps towards Zedaph hastily, not waiting for any other explanation, when he brings his hands to Zedaph’s shoulders and tugs, pulling him down so Grian can fit his lips around his boyfriends, Zedaph lets him, even if Grian can still feel that same timid energy thrumming beneath his fingers, but it is enough, kissing him gently like this, to have Zedaph’s body loosen in Grian’s arms, a soft sigh escaping him.

‘You’re so good to me, love… Thank you’, Grian whispers against soft lips once they part for air and there’s the breath of a chuckle caressing his own lips when Zedaph circles his arms around Grian’s neck. There’s teeth digging into Grian’s bottom lip, suddenly, and after a small whine and a glance at the suddenly turned mischievous grin on Zedaph’s flushed face, Grian simply shakes his head, black eyes hardening a bit and, the next thing either of them now, Grian is pressing Zedaph against the single window in the room, enjoying the gasp that leaves Zedaph’s lips and his dazed expression as he blinks down at Grian perhaps a bit too much, but Grian also becomes a little hesitant, now, when he sees Zedaph like this, blushing and held up mostly due to Grian’s hands on him. He is about to take a step back when Zedaph frowns and raises one of his hands to hook his fingers beneath Grian’s chin, pulling him close, as if for a kiss, but Zedaph doesn’t close the distance between them just yet and Grian’s hands on his shoulders dig into the tanned skin there, leaving the area marked by his own fingers a bit reddened.

‘I did it for you’, Zedaph says simply, then, and he looks so determined and so adoring, to the point where Grian feels his heart squeeze in onto itself inside his chest before it just about beats out of his chest at the new found excitement there, but Zedaph isn’t done, ‘If I’m wrong tell me, but… I think you’d like to have me right now, bird.’

And there it is, that pet name again, and Grian still cannot get over how softly Zedaph says it, he melts a little bit, but then he renews his effort of holding Zedaph against the glass behind him because Zedaph is _right_ and the mere image of Zedaph moaning and whining beneath him punches Grian right in the gut and he has to shake himself to bring his own awareness back into the moment, as hard as that is. His cock is twitching in his trousers by the time Grian kisses Zedaph again, and it starts as soft as any of their other kisses, lips sliding against lips wetly, but Grian moves one of his hands to Zedaph’s chest, twisting one of his nipples beneath the fabric gently, Zedaph moaning beneath Grian’s ministrations.

Grian takes the opportunity to slide his tongue inside Zedaph’s mouth and it’s so hot and wet and Zedaph freezes, just for a second, before his fingers slide into Grian’s hair and he isn’t trying to control Grian’s movements, he isn’t even guiding Grian, no, he is clinging to Grian, as if he will fall apart if he lets go and, when Grian scrapes his teeth against Zedaph’s lips and shoves his knee between trembling thighs, grinding upwards where he can feel how hard Zedaph already is, deep down, Grian almost hopes he does.

‘Gri…’, Zedaph gasps and tries to grind down against Grian’s thigh and, after a moment of wondering which direction he wants to take this in, Grian just lets him, a plan forming in his mind as he moves his own leg in maddening circles against Zedaph’s crotch, delighting in the whimpers it seems to coax out of his boyfriend, Zedaph’s head thudding against the glass window as he lets it fall backwards, mouth still agape even as Grian slows his ministrations and, really, Grian cannot be expected to not touch, to not let his fingers follow the edge of delicate lace, the expanse of soft skin presented to him, and it is exactly what he does, bringing his hands to Zedaph’s waist and exploring the body that he knows all too well. Grian knows they've both had their partners with which they’ve experimented, he knows that that’s fine, perhaps even for the better, somewhere behind all the bitterness, but in the moment, the only thing running through Grian’s brain is how no one else knows Zedaph’s body as well as he does, no one’s had the experience that Grian does and no one knows quite how to turn him into a mess with a single touch. In return, Zedaph knows Grian just as well and perhaps with another occasion, Grian will be the one to be fondled and carressed and fucked until he is brought to tears, but right now, it’s not quite what Grian wants, not this time. They are both here for something a bit different.

Grian leans in and digs his teeth into Zedaph’s neck, after that particular line of thought, not hard enough to pierce through skin and draw blood, but just hard enough that it makes Zedaph’s face turn ever redder as he lets out an almost pained whimper and turns to goo into Grian’s wandering hands. There will be a mark there, in the morning, and that image makes Grian stop for a second, to Zedaph’s dismay and moaned out displeasure, but with renewed passion, his hands gentler in comparison to slightly rougher bites and licks and nips and bruising kisses, Grian sets about covering Zedaph with marks, small red spots that will bloom purple on his skin later, because it’s how Zedaph’s wounds always turn out, the colour pretty against the tanned stretch of it, and bitemarks that Grian soothes with a playful tongue, and the hands Zedaph had on him disappear as he braces himself against the window, breathing heavily, holding back the sounds that Grian knows a bit of pain always have him making, and so Grian goes just that little bit further.

His kisses go down, lower and lower Zedaph’s body, and it’s easier like this, when Zedaph stands just a bit taller than Grian himself, to turn his head just so and close his lips around a lace covered nipple. The fabric is soft enough that it shouldn’t be uncomfortable against Zedaph’s all too sensitive chest, but that doesn’t mean Grian doesn’t move his tongue around the nipple until a sob leaves Zedaph’s parted lips.

A hand falls into Grian’s hair, Zedaph’s finger loose until Grian bites at the nipple, lightly, which makes Zedaph tighten his grip and it’s almost like he is holding Grian’s head there, his back arching and his thighs trembling where they bracket Grian’s own.

Grian smiles against the lace and remembers just how easily he could bring Zedaph to the edge. He continues sucking on Zedaph’s nipple, letting his teeth dig into the peaked nub of it and Grian can almost feel the way precum-damp fabric clings the the leg of his own trousers, but it only makes Grian rub Zedaph’s crotch all the more.

‘Please, _please_ , bird, I c-can’t...’, is said, breathlessly, and Grian doesn’t let up, in fact, his touches get a bit quicker, a bit harder, and Zedaph sobs as he is brought to the edge of his own orgasm.

Grian breaks all contact.

He pulls back and studies the way Zedaph’s eyes, tear-filled and a bit misty with desperation, look at him, adoring and _begging_ , but Grian is unmovable. Grian holds Zedaph’s hips still when he tries to thrust them forward, following the movement as Grian’s thigh draws back, but as all stimulation stops, Zedaph looks at his lover with this sort of wrecked look on his face and Grian feels the way his own body burns up at that, heat coursing through him and, even though he hadn’t paid much attention to his own body as he’d teased Zedaph, Grian knows, without a doubt, that his cock is rock hard where it pushes against his trousers and Grian almost wants to touch himself, if only because he knows that Zedaph won’t do the same for his own needs, that he’ll stay where he is and look so, so pretty as he watches Grian get what he cannot have, not without permission, _release_ , but Grian decides to be kind. Somewhat.

Grian’s fingers fit themselves around the hard, wet shape of Zedaph’s cock where it pushes against the lace, and with a whispered, _‘Come for me, love’_ , Zedaph is gone.

It seems like his whole body shutters with it, a shiver going through his muscles, red face twisting with pleasure, his sounds shocked into silence, and Grian drinks him in, his heart speeding up a little as Zedaph moans his name, so sweetly, when the aftershocks of his orgasm make him tremble against the glass, and the way his body, almost subconsciously, leans into Grian’s touch when he gently runs a hand down Zedaph’s clothed thigh, the muscles there twitching even as his legs spread, just a little bit, just enough for Grian to take another step forward and bring their bodies together, it makes Grian want to just stop here, to tug Zedaph’s face down and smother him in kisses, to let Zedaph melt in his arms, to let Zedaph hold him too as they fall asleep together, but Grian’s cock throbs with its own excitement and Grian remembers, all at once, of just how much he wants a little bit more, like his own body needs the reminder that Zedaph is his, too, that he can take care of his lover too, and so Grian gives Zedaph the small reprieve he needs and his head falls forward until it meets Zedaph’s moving sternum, Zedaph breathing heavily still.

There’s a soft sound from him and his hand is still in Grian’s hair, but it is now simply tangling itself into dark blonde locks and massaging Grian’s scalp with tender touches. If Grian could, he knows he would purr under the touch, but as it stands, he simply tilts his head into it, eyes opening, even if Grian isn’t sure when he’d even closed them, and looking up at Zedaph’s face.

The subtle, barely there lines of dried tears are still there, as is the flush and his lips are bitten red, but he is smiling, so lovingly, so affectionately, that Grian can’t help but get on his tiptoes and plant a kiss under one of Zedaph’s eyes, the small giggle that follows one that Grian will probably end up dreaming about, will probably remember whenever he sees Zedaph, even as he grins in the face of one of his shenanigans, even as he is indulging his own need for chaos, because this moment is for them, Grian realises, and Zedaph is giving him this because he knows something, and Grian will thank him later, will love him right, will probably let Zedaph give him the soft attention that he always does, but right now, Grian moves his head a little, just enough that his lips almost brush against the shell of Zedph’s ear when he whispers, voice low, the slightest hint of a tremble hidden behind the words.

‘Can I fuck you, love?’, Grian doesn’t have to see the way Zedaph shivers, because he feels it, just as he feels the way Zedaph’s cock gives an interstd twitch where Grian presses their crotches together, but though the reaction is answer enough, he wants to hear Zedaph say it, so he presses his own erection into Zedaph’s soft one a bit harder, ‘Can you be good and let me take you?’

An idea pops into Grian’s head and he nibbles on Zedaph’s earlobe before voicing it, voice barely above a whisper, and Zedaph’s body is heating up where Grian is pressing into him.

‘Right here, against the window, for everyone to see. Can you do that for me?’

Zedaph moans, then, and he sounds so devastated, almost as if the sound had been punched out of him, but Grian smiles mildly when Zedaph’s cock, fully hard now, all but throbbing against Grian’s, that Grian knows precisely how much Zedaph would _love_ that, his own arousal crashing into a man already brought to his knees by pleasure, and Grian only holds him a bit firmer.

‘Words, love. I want you to plead for it’, Grian ends up saying just before he pulls back, watching Zedaph’s face, and the twist of pleasure in it is obvious enough, should be obvious enough, but Grian’s eyes don’t soften and Zedaph takes a shaky breath as he gathers himself, at least just enough that he finds the ability to produce more than tiny whimpers and soft sighs, and says, gently:

‘Bird, you… You know I’d do anything for you. Take me as you wish.’

And as if that weren’t destructive enough to Grian’s own dwindling sanity and self control, a slow smile forms on Zedaph’s lips and he says one last thing before he leans fully into the glass behind him, body so pliant and so tempting, the necklace of bruises around his neck already darkening, that Grian finds it hard to even _breathe_.

‘I love you bird… My pretty, little bird...’, there’s a breath, there, purple eyes closing for a fraction of a second, ‘Fuck me. Please.’

Grian doesn’t wait for more than a moment after that, shivering with the way the words get to him, but then that same, almost possessive feeling from before rears its head in and, with all gentleness thrown aside, Grian grabs Zedaph by the shoulders and spins him around. He kisses whatever he can of exposed shoulder blades, but maybe that’s just an excuse, maybe Grian is just avoiding getting inside Zedaph because he is fully aware of the fact that he won’t last once he can feel warm, almost painfully tight walls squeezing around his dick, but when Zedaph whines again, softly, so, so very obediently, Grian cannot seem to wait a second longer. Grian lets his fingers travel down Zedaph’s arms until he can hold his hands, fingers interlacing together, and the next thing either of them now, Grian is holding Zedaph’s hands against the window, on either side of his head. There’s silence after that, as both of them catch their breaths, but the Zedaph is bending hs back, the arch all too delicious, especially as Zedaph presses his arse against Grian erection, and Grian would fuck right here, just like this, but there’s still a sliver of logic somewhere in his brain, hidden behind all the pleasure, and he uses it to detangle himself from Zedaph’s body, which only makes his lover cry out for him, almost pitifully so, but after digging in the small chest next to the bed, Grian is back to pressing Zedaph into the window, bottle of lube in hand. Zedaph’s hands are still pressed against the glass, heeding an unspoken order to stay like that, and Grian has to bite his lip against a groan.

He _does_ , however, groan at Zedaph’s next words.

‘No prep, this time. I just want you inside me, bird.’

In a way, Grian is glad that Zedaph has his back to him, because Grian is absolutely blushing, even the back of his neck feeling flushed and heated, his fingers trembling a bit around the bottle of clear, viscous liquid. Still, he has to make sure it’s what Zedaph wants. It wouldn’t be the first time either of them had gone in with no fingers beforehand, just lubed up and slow enough in the beginning to allow no pain amongst the pleasure, but Grian knows, and he has the sneaking suspicion Zedaph does too, that he doesn’t want to be gentle right now, that he wants to fuck an orgasm out of Zedaph and, then, if his own body can handle it, another and another-

Grian takes a breath.

‘Are you sure, love?’, he asks, voice edging gentle as much as it is almost raspy with what the thought of just slicking his cock up and taking Zedaph does to him, ‘I… I don’t think I want to go easy on you. Not now.’

And then Grian hears just about the sweetest little giggle, Zedaph’s shoulders shaking with it as his head turns ever so slightly and the look he throws Grian from over his shoulder is outright sinful, his eyes still sparkling with arousal behind heavy lids, and his brows are slightly furrowed still and Grian melts a little bit further at the sight, knuckles turning white where he holds the lube.

‘I’m all _yours_.’

That settles it, then, doesn’t it?

Grian does need a moment to collect himself enough to _breathe_ , finally, because he’d been holding his breath as he waited for an answer, and oh, what an answer it had been, the words striking a chord somewhere deep within him and maybe it’s because of all the thoughts he’d been fighting off the day prior, maybe it’s because of how good Zedaph looks for him against the window, staying so obediently still that Grian has to swallow before he can uncork the bottle of lube and upturn it over his fingers, shivering as the cold liquid falls onto already shaky fingers, but Grian can’t help himself when he brings their bodies together once again. He is still dressed, now, but Grian can imagine what rubbing his naked front against the lace covering his boyfriend’s back would feel like and it draws a gasp from him, even as his hand, wet with lube, its movements rushed with anticipation, makes its way lower down Zedaph’s body, Grian’s fingertips leaving wet trails where he lets them brush against hot skin and beautifully detailed white lace, but soon, Grian’s other hand is also down there, pulling the underwear aside, pressing his cheeks apart and Grian doesn’t think he can handle looking down and seeing the way Zedaph would twitch against his fingers, would come untouched before he could even get his cock out to bring Zedaph the pleasure he deserves, so instead, Grian hooks his chin over Zedaph’s shoulder, their cheeks rubbing together, and Grian hears the stuttered breath that depletes Zedaph’s lungs when Grian’s fingers finally brush against his hole.

‘ _O-oh…_ Oh, bird...’, and it is said as though Zedaph where on edge again, and one glance down reveals the way his cock twitches in come-stained lace, hard once more, but Grian pays it no more mind than he has to, squeezing his eyes shut at the sight and simply turning his head a little to whisper in Zedaph’s ear, voice gentle even as his fingers spread the lube around Zedaph’s rim, even as Zedaph twitches and mewls for him lowly, fingers clenching and almost sliding down the glass where he is still holding his hands.

‘Good, so good for me, love… Want you to take me, just like this. Fuck, you always take care of me so, so well, you’re always so sweet… But I’ve got you, now’, Zedaph’s entrance flutters at the words and Grian is so tempted to shove his fingers in, but the thought of going in while Zedaph is still so tight does things to Grian, and Grian cannot deny himself, not when Zedaph is offering himself like this.

He lets his fingers linger a moment longer as Zedaph shudders in place, but then he is grabbing Zedaph by his hips and grinding into the soft flesh of his arse, slowly, gently, a contrast for what’s yet to come, but Zedaph lets him, sighing softly, longingly, even. Grian finally pulls back after he feels like his own cock is just about ready to burst where it is still trapped inside his pants and he does quick work of getting undressed, sweater and soft sleeping pants thrown behind him carelessly. Teary purple eyes follow the movement and Grian _knows_ , he can feel it, so as he straightens himself back out, all but stalking towards Zedaph’s form, Grian makes sure to keep his movements slow, seductive even, and Zedaph looks away as if he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t have, the tips of his ears red even as his shoulders move up and Zedaph lets his forehead fall against the glass.

It is only once Grian is close enough to feel the heat of Zedaph’s body against his own skin that he makes to wrap his own lube-slick hand around his cock, the length of it hard and throbbing and so sensitive that Grian asks himself how long he could possibly last like this. He reaches out with a hand, fingers kneading into Zedaph’s arse, opening him up, and Grian lets the head of his dick rest in his cleft for a second, before he pushes in, the tension in his own body and the heat around both of them almost unbearable. The light of the lantern is dimmer now and whatever illumination bounces off of the greenery outside the base, either from the moon standing high in the sky or from the few torches dotted around the forest floor and upturned earth and chaotically growing grass, filters in with a colder hue and the play of colours and light against Zedaph’s tanned skin is mesmerising, making the pink of his flush stand out, making the freckles that only become more noticeable in the summer stand out that much more obviously right now too, but Grian brings his lips to the nape of Zedaph’s neck, not quite satisfied with the lack of marks he finds there, going almost a little dizzy at how that simple action coaxes a sharp breath out of his lover.  
They’re both waiting on an invisible edge, ready to fall over, together, but Grian wants a moment more, wants to enjoy the way the anticipation makes Zedaph’s flesh grow more heated in his palms. Grian moves his lips in gentle kisses which, slowly, turn into bites, but he knows that Zedaph hears him murmur a soft ‘ _Ready?_ ’, seeing as light blond strands, already a bit damp with sweat, tickle Grian’s face when he nods enthusiastically.

And then Grian finally pushes in.

Lube eases the way and makes the slide that much smoother, skin dragging against skin in the most pleasurable of ways, but Grian still has to hold Zedaph’s hips still after his head pops past the rim, because, suddenly, Zedaph begins thrashing, breathless little noises filling the room around them, and Grian shushes him, bitting a bit more firmly into the skin of a shoulder, tracing the teeth marks with his tongue after. _God_ , Zedaph is so tight around him and Grian feels so stimulated already, he almost subconsciously digs his nails into Zedaph’s hips, just to stave off his orgasm, his kisses taking on a rougher quality. Grian only gives both of them a moment to adjust, though, selfishly, he is mostly trying to let himself get to a place where he can move without the pleasure becoming too overwhelming because Grian still wants this too last, as much as either of them can.

Then, Grian begins moving and he remains true to his words.

There’s the slap of flesh against flash, the almost inaudible keen of a an openmouthed, high pitched scream of pleasure from Zedaph, there’s muffled groans and mewls that Grian buries in the bitten and bruised skin of Zedaph’s neck and shoulders and there’s the increasing heat of the room. Grian isn’t holding back and maybe he should be, he thinks belatedly, because with how tight Zedaph is around him, with how he clenches down around his cock even further when Grian hits a spot inside him that Grian is all too familiar with, Grian is, at any given moment, just a few thrusts away from his own end but he can’t stop himself, not when it feels so good, not when his thrusts force Zedaph to flatten himself against the glass, and Grian almost groans at the image they must make from outside, at how desperate Zedaph might look, head held low, chin meeting his chest, eyes screwed in pleasure, pale hands sneaking about his torso, holding him tight as he is being fucked, and Grian doesn’t know what to do with himself.

His arms tighten ever so slightly around Zedaph, fingers digging into the white lace covering his chest, and he keeps fucking into him, his own noises mixing with the desperate sounds that his lover cannot seem to hold back, and Grian thinks about how much he loves Zedaph, and not just being fucked by or fucking him, not just in a carnal way, even if he is pounding him into the only window of the room to the point where Grian questions the integrity of the glass, the shape of it rattling, ever so slightly, in its hinges, and for a second, Grian entertains the thought that no one can love Zedaph quite like he does, that if Zedaph had chosen him, then he will be Zedaph’s as much as Zedaph will be his, that they’ll give each other the love, the touch, the affection and the comfort they need, that they’ve always done so, and Grian doesn’t want to admit it, even as he shakes with the rough thrusts, the wet sounds of their bodies meeting almost too much, but his eyes get a bit teary, the sting in them a combination of his body just burning up and of the weight of his own emotions, of his own love and adoration.

Zedaph takes him as well as he can, and Grian moves even closer, if that is possible, because they are both close, but one of his hands drifts down, right until it can slide beneath the lace underwear, his fingers meeting Zedaph’s warm, hard cock and wrapping around it in what Grian knows is too tight of a grip, but it doesn’t seem to matter much, not when Zedaph arches into him and breathes out his name like a prayer, scalding pleasure making his voice break on the sounds, his body both rigid and boneless all at once, but Grian doesn’t really show any mercy, because he knows he won’t last.

He keeps the pace of his hand somewhat synchronised with the motions of his hips, now turning a bit more into grinding than full out thrusting, but judging by both of their sounds, Grian doesn’t think any of them mind, not really.

‘Bird, I’m gonna-’, Zedaph tries to warn him, his words all but shattering as Grian simply stops jerking Zedaph off and starts swiping his thumb over the head instead, the precum gathered at the tip making his grip slicker, which leads Grian into tightening it even more, and then Zedaph falls apart in his arms, ‘ _Grian, please, please-_ ’

It almost makes Grian come, hearing his name said like that, it almost makes him reach that same high, but he stills his hips just in time, a pained sounding exhale making his chest stutter as it expands, and he can feel the slightly rougher fabric of the lace brush against his nipples, not really helping Grian stave off his inevitable orgams, but really, compared to how Zedaph suddenly going tight enough around him that Grian’s head swims in arousal, his vision blurring for just a second, it’s almost insignificant.

And after another breath, Zedaph still moaning as he rides the aftershocks of his second orgasm, Grian begins thrusting again. The overstimulation quickly morphs into something painful and Grian can tell. One of his hands is on Zedaph’s waist and his palm is massaging the tense muscles there, his other hand wrapped around the softening flesh of Zedaph’s cock again, and Grian thinks maybe he should stop, even if the thought of doing so, now, when he is almost at his limit, when he can see the darkness waiting for him below the cliff that he is hovering just over, ready to fall at any second, sounds all but painful, but Zedaph bucks back into him, even as he twists and jerks against Grian’s body with the way overstimulation sets his nerves on fire.

‘Please, f-fuck, come inside me, please, I want- I _need_ it, bird please, I need it so bad, need you to fill me, _ah-_ ’

He is cut off by a scream, but Grian has heard enough, his sounds no longer restrained and flowing freely around them, and, really, Grian just hopes that no one can hear them, even if he knows that with his own moans and with the way Zedaph is sobbing with his own overwhelming pleasure, it may be something that he cannot help.

Yet, Grian doesn’t focus on that. He goes as hard and as fast as his can, chasing his own orgasm and, even if Zedaph is limp in the grip of his fingers, he begins moving his hand again, feeling his resolve almost shatter at the hoarse shout that earns him, but _fuck_ , Zedaph is hardening again, slowly, but Grian can feel him between his fingers, and he can only imagine how it must feel, but his own stimulation edges on too much, on _just_ enough right now and Grian can’t think, he can’t even make any more sounds, now, the contrast of both of their earlier noises and the quiet of breaths and bodies coming together the only thing still there to shatter the silence of the peaceful night, and Grian needs just a little but more, just a little-

Zedaph goes tense, in his arms, and in the reflection of the glass, when Zedaph lets his head fall back onto Grian’s shoulder, Grian can see the way his mouth opens around a scream, but nothing comes out. Purple eyes roll back and Zedaph doesn’t even shiver just yet, his body not yet caught up with one orgasm after another, not when he isn’t even fully hard yet, not when Grian is still hammering his own cock into Zedaph’s arse.

Grian comes to that image, of his boyfriend caught in so much ecstasy, coming dry around him, because he’s never quite been able to fuck Zedaph into silence like this, has never been able to bring either of them so high up, before pushing them off together, and it _rips_ something from him, a shout, maybe his sanity, the warmth of his skin, the numbness of his limbs, the fire in his veins, whatever it is, it makes Grian’s vision go white, even if for just a second, the world around him fading until all he can feel, all that there is, is Zedaph, around him, against him, and Grian let’s that comfort him.

Grian comes back to his senses slowly, afterwards, and he finds that they are no longer standing up, that the window is now at Zedaph’s back, that Zedaph is sitting with his legs spread around Grian’s own body, their positions familiar, that he is being held so gently that it almost hurts, soft breathing ruffling the hair on top of his head from where Grian is tucked under his lover’s chin, and feelings flows back into his body, gradually, but he still cannot move, his muscles jelly when he tries to call on them. Zedaph just shushes him and his arms tighten minutely around Grian.

They’re both sticky with come and sweat and Grian knows Zedaph is dripping with his own release, but they’re both a mess of limbs and sweat and exhaustion, right now, and Grian only leans further into Zedaph’s chest. The lace is gone now and, as much as Grian had enjoyed it, he thinks sleepily, he still prefers Zedaph’s smooth, warm skin.

‘I love you, my little bird...’, Zedaph mumbles, sounding as sleepy as Grian feels, and they’ll get up in a moment, they’ll collapse into Grian’s bed and will worry about cleaning up in the morning, and maybe they’ll regret it, but the mere idea of moving makes Grian curl further into Zedaph’s chest. He wraps his own arms around his waist and holds Zedaph just as he is being held.

‘I adore you, my love’, Grian manages to whisper into the still air.

Their eyes meet, gentle purple and soothing black drawing each other in, and they tilt their heads as they meet in one last kiss for the night. It’s nothing if not a fluttering touch between lips, but it’s enough.

‘You’re mine, but I’m also yours, you know that, bird?’, is said so lovingly, so softly that Grian tears up again, but there’s a vulnerability in Zedaph’s voice, somewhere beneath the soothing tone of it, and Grian wonders if, perhaps, his own litany of bad thoughts might be reflected in the person he shares his heart with, the person that he is looking at right now, trying to convey, and probably failing, too, the full expanse of his love for him, but that’s ok, maybe.

And maybe there’s a few more tears rolling down both of their cheeks as they hug each other, maybe they embrace each other in their sleep to the point where, upon waking up, Grian isn’t even sure where his body ends and where Zedaph’s begins, but that’s ok, they’re ok.

They’ll sleep soon, but for now, they remain on the floor, caught in each other’s arms and not willing to let go for even a second.

**Author's Note:**

> I think the zedango fic is gonna end up being pretty long too tho and i'm not sure i want to pick up any other projects until i finish that so, what I'm thinking, I go on a little break until I have a substantial amount of it written out, what say you all?  
> anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading :)


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